On the desk, there was a bento box from someone he didn't know. A small lunch box wrapped in cloth. No one could tell who left it. And Shinji didn't have the courage to ask anyone about it either. ——Let's go back a little in time. He stepped onto the platform of Third Tokyo Station on an April morning. The moment the doors opened, the air changed. It smelled like mountains. A slightly damp, cold breeze flowing from the outer ridge of the Hakone mountains. But that was all. Just the ordinary smell of morning. Ikari Shinji, fourteen years old. Short black hair a bit disheveled, white shirt, black pants. Hunched posture, small frame, brown eyes always looking slightly downward. He stood at the edge of the platform, holding a Boston bag in both hands. There was a white sign at the station exit. "Welcome to Third Tokyo City" That's all it said. A sign almost too simple. (Third Tokyo City, huh.) Shinji passed through the ticket gate and stood in front of the station. He paused for a moment. ——Something's off. The spacing between buildings was uniform. The distance between the convenience store and the apartment building, between one apartment building and the next—it was all lined up like it had been measured with a ruler. The roads were wide, the street trees planted neatly. Few power lines. The sky was open. For a regional city, it felt somehow artificial. Adults in suits passing through the station plaza. They all walked in the same direction. Squinting, Shinji could see a gray building on the east side of the station. A tall building with few windows. It seemed to be built next to a school. (Is that the Gehirn Square thing?) Shinji adjusted his bag and started walking. He'd heard that Third Tokyo City was built by the government fifteen years ago. A city planned at the foot of the Hakone mountains under the name of a "next-generation education special zone." Most residents worked in education-related jobs, and the entire city was under the influence of an organization called the Gehirn Educational Foundation, or so the story went. His uncle had told him that before he left. "Shinji, that place is a bit special," he'd said with a troubled expression. Special. He thought he understood that word a little better now. (It's like... an artificial city.) A stream called the Hayase River flowed beside the road. The river was wide, and he could hear the water quietly. Cherry trees lined the banks, and petals fell onto the surface. An April morning. Only that scenery seemed real. Shinji stopped for a moment and looked at the river. A single petal drifted slowly downstream. ...Where's it going? he thought. Like me, he also thought. The destination wasn't clear. "This is Class 2-1." The guide teacher said. Shinji stood in the hallway. From beyond the door, he heard a murmur of voices. (Thirty-two people...) The teacher opened the door. The murmur stopped. Thirty-three gazes pierced him all at once. Shinji looked down. Instinctively. Reflexively. Looking at his shoes, he stood in front of the blackboard. (I have to say it properly. My name, I have to say it.) "...Ikari... Shinji..." His voice cracked. It was the worst. Right around the "Shi" in "Shinji," his tone completely warped. He thought he heard giggling from the right side of the classroom. His face was hot. (I have to say "nice to meet you." I have to——) But his voice wouldn't come out. The teacher gave him a "nice to meet you" to help him out. Shinji gave a small bow. He hurried toward the seat by the window. Outside the window, he could see a large zelkova tree in the courtyard. A big tree. Leaves were starting to come out, and the yellow-green was dazzling. (Look, zelkova. That's a nice tree.) He stared at the zelkova for a while. He felt the classroom's murmur resume and the gazes scatter. His breathing became a little easier. But the homeroom teacher still hadn't arrived. Shinji glanced around carefully. All unfamiliar faces. Of course—it was his first day here. But when his eyes almost met someone's, he immediately looked down. ——In that moment, he thought it was his chance. "[whispers]I need to use the restroom..." The fact that the seat next to him was empty was at least a small mercy. He stood up quietly and left the classroom. Walking down the hallway, Shinji whispered to himself. (Don't run away. Don't run away...) But his feet were heading toward the roof. (...How pathetic.) He knew it. He knew it himself. His mouth said don't run away, but his feet were already running. It was contradictory. But he couldn't stop. When he opened the door on the fourth floor, wind blew toward him. The roof was spacious. Surrounded by a fence, with two benches at the edge. One water tank. After that, just sky. The Hakone mountains were visible in the distance. The mountain ridge was sharp, and the sky was blue. Shinji sat on a bench and took out a convenience store rice ball. He'd bought it last night at a convenience store on Namiki Street. He'd wavered between a 150-yen meat bun and this, but ultimately chose the rice ball. For no particular reason. There was no reason. He peeled away the plastic with a crackle and took a bite. It had no taste. Well, to be precise, it had taste. But he felt nothing. (Sigh...) From the direction of the mountains, he heard a bird's call. What kind of bird was it? Shinji didn't know bird species. It seemed a little like the birds that came to his uncle's garden. Then. Something white appeared at the edge of his vision. Shinji looked up. Someone was in the shadow of the water tank. White hair. Hair that was white even in the sunlight—genuinely white. It swayed slightly in the wind. That face——red eyes, looking straight at Shinji. Their eyes met. Shinji froze. The other person didn't move either. One second. Two seconds. Then the girl turned her back. Without a sound, she walked toward the roof door. The door opened and closed. That was all. "[surprised]...Huh?" Shinji started to stand up, but stopped. (Who was that? Same class...? But I've never seen her. I mean, it's my first day, so how would I know?) Still holding the rest of his rice ball, he stared at the door for a while. Wind passed through. It smelled like spring. When he returned to the classroom, the homeroom teacher was there. "Oh, Ikari! You were in the restroom a long time!" A bright voice. A woman in her thirties. When Shinji took his seat, she asked with a smile, "Are you okay?" She seemed to be the Japanese teacher. Her name was on the blackboard... Katsuragi Misato. Shinji nodded slightly. He sat down and looked at the blackboard in front——and then he noticed. There was something on his desk. A small package. A bento box-sized object wrapped in cloth. Placed next to his bag. (...What is this?) Shinji looked around. The kid in the next seat looked at him curiously. "[whispers]Do you know whose this is?" "[surprised]Huh? I don't know. It was here from the start." He asked the kid in front. The kid in back too. They all shook their heads. Class started. Shinji kept the package on his lap and faced forward for a while. But he was curious. Really curious. When lunch break came, Shinji carefully unwrapped the cloth. A bento box appeared. When he opened the lid——it smelled good. Kinpira burdock. Rolled egg. Salt-grilled salmon. White rice. Everything arranged neatly. The rolled egg was square-shaped and beautifully formed. "[surprised]...What is this?" The words came out involuntarily. But everyone around him was already eating lunch, and no one heard. Shinji took a bite of the rolled egg. It was sweet. He could taste the dashi. It was soft, a proper rolled egg. "[surprised]...It's delicious." The words came out again. The kid next to him glanced over. Shinji closed his mouth. But his chopsticks kept moving. He ate the salmon. He ate the kinpira. Everything tasted genuinely good. (Who... put this here?) Shinji thought while eating. While he was in the restroom. Including the time on the roof, he'd been away from his seat for about twenty minutes. Someone had placed it during that time. The white-haired girl from the roof suddenly came to mind. It might not be related. It might be. But he didn't know. There was no name written on the bottom of the bento box. (...It's a mystery.) Shinji put down his chopsticks and looked out the window at the zelkova. The leaves swayed in the wind. Someone had made a bento for him. He didn't know the reason or the name, but it was definitely there. It was warm and delicious. Something in his chest stirred. He didn't know how to describe it, but it wasn't a bad feeling. After school. When he went to the shoe locker, he noticed an envelope wedged next to his indoor shoes. A white envelope. No name written on it. But it was in Shinji's shoe locker. (What is this?) At the end of the hallway, Shinji opened the envelope. Inside was a document. It said "supplementary transfer paperwork." The kind that needed a signature. The school's name was printed on it, and at the bottom—— Shinji's hand stopped. In the sender's section, it said: "Gehirn Educational Foundation Board of Directors' Office Ikari Gendou" "[whispers]...Dad." The noise of the hallway seemed to fade away. Ikari Gendou. His father. His father, whom he hadn't seen in years. A document had come from the school's board of directors' office. Ikari Gendou—the director of the Gehirn Educational Foundation, the organization that essentially ran this city's schools—was his father. (I didn't know... or rather. I wasn't told.) Shinji slowly folded the document. His uncle had asked him to transfer to Third Tokyo City last month. He wasn't given a reason. He was only told, "Your father contacted us." He'd been wondering the whole time. Why now. Why here. He thought he saw the answer a little. ——Dad manages this school. That's why he was sent here. (...Why?) Anger came. Then a feeling of helplessness. Finally, something he couldn't quite name. Maybe sadness. But he couldn't tell for sure. He put the document in his bag and left school. Heights Shirakaba, Room 102. One room, kitchenette. The rent was 38,000 yen a month, he'd heard. A room Gendou had arranged matter-of-factly. A bed, a desk, a small refrigerator. White curtains. White walls. Nothing decorated. It had been that way before Shinji arrived, and it hadn't changed since. He didn't feel like changing it. Shinji lay down on the bed. He put earbuds in his ears. Music started playing. The sound of a cello. Heavy, but calming. A song he'd been listening to since he was at his uncle's house. He looked at the ceiling. A white ceiling. An empty ceiling. Various things floated through his mind. His voice cracking during self-introduction. The white-haired girl in the shadow of the water tank. The bento someone had left. The delicious rolled egg. And the name in the sender's section of the envelope. (Don't run away.) That phrase came to mind again. But tonight, those words sounded hollow. He knew he shouldn't run away. But then what should he do——he didn't know. What was Dad thinking? Why now. What did he expect. He wouldn't tell him anything. The cello sound continued. The wind seemed to blow outside the window. Shinji closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he'd sit among those thirty-two people again. His eyes would almost meet someone's again, and he'd look down. He'd want to run away. He'd probably run away. And he'd tell himself again. Don't run away. But. ——That bento was delicious. That much was certain. Someone had done something for him. Without reason, without a name, and yet. Shinji looked at the ceiling one more time. A white ceiling. Nothing had changed yet. But something was catching slightly. Who left the bento?